The Brodwick Adventure
by Avenge the System
Summary: Arthur Brodwick has dream't his whole life of going off and having an adventure of his own. Now he's eighteen and he has decided its time to live out his life long goal. With his friend Peter Garreth what mishaps will he run into?
1. Arthur's Embarking

I remember being a young lad. Far before I could even grow chin hair. I remember my mother and father telling me great stories of battles past and adventures done. But the one I was most fond of, was a tale of the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggin's was his name, every time I was told the story I would stay quiet and just listen. I also remember my burning passion for having an adventure of my own. I would often swing around a small wooden sword my father fashioned for me out of oak. The most immaculate thing about it(in my eyes) Was the handle of the sword. It was embroidered with small burnt in images from the Hobbit's tale. My father was a black-smith, and a damn good one at that. He made the most beautiful swords out of iron and steel. I often just stood by and watched him craft the swords, and dream of owning one myself. I felt some urge to do something fantastic, something incredible. But for a small boy in Bree, it isn't exactly easy. And so, after that introduction into the back-story of my life we can finally move on to where this story actually takes place, on my 18th birthday...

I open my eyes wide to stare blankly at the wooden ceiling of my wooden room. I rub my eyes gently as I slide my legs over the side of my bed and onto the cold floorboards, I can't help but shiver as I stand up out of the warm covers and into the icy morning air. "It cant be past 7oclock" I state to myself while peering out the frosty window, the sun is rising over the mountains peak, and I feel a certain sensation of excitement, for today is the day I leave Bree behind me and go out into the world, to have an adventure of my own. I walk over to a small cabinet in the corner of my room and open it wide. Inside are a pair of long dark brown trousers with a green stitching along the side, I pull them out and slide each one of my legs into them, fastening them to my waist with a leather belt. I look back into the cabinet and find a sleeveless light green shirt, I pull it over my arms and head. A pair of small black shoes are beside the cabinet and I slip my feet into them one by one. Ready for the day I close the cabinet and walk out into the main room of the house where my mother and father are waiting.

Mother is boiling tea over the fire-place and father is sitting at the table eating bacon and eggs(no doubt my mothers cooked to perfection) Father looks over at me smiling. "There you are my boy!" says he standing up and giving me a firm pat on the back. "Hello Father," I reply back in a joyful tone. "Oh son," My Mother says to me, her eyes turning slightly bloodshot from a few tears, "Take a seat at the table, tea will be ready soon." And with that I sit at the smooth wooden table leaning back in my chair. Father turns to me, a happy smile still strewn across his face. "So, leaving off on your own, hey?" He says taking a bite off the eggs. "Yeah, I guess today is it." I reply, and with my reply I hear light sobbing from the fire-place. My Mother has always been extremely attached, and so have I. "Don't fret Mother, I'll be safe." I say while standing up and walking to my mother, I hug her, holding her embrace deep in my heart. I never did think this day would be difficult at all. In fact, in my mind I thought I'd be out the door on horseback by now. "You know me Mother, I'm not daft. You'll see. I'll bring back riches for you and Father," I pull her back and stare at her tear ridden face "Don't worry," I reassure her with a smile.

"Arthur will be fine Saorise. I'll make sure of it" A familiar voice says from the doorway. "Oh Peter, bless your kind heart," My Mother says letting out a weary smile. Peter Garreth, My oldest and closest friend. I've known Peter since I was a child. Peter is about the same size as me, only instead of my dark brown hair he has been bestowed with a darkened blond. His eyes are blue, while mine are brown and green. We've always been friends and I cant even imagine living in Bree without him here. He smiles at me and stands beside my chair. I stand up and in front of him. "It's great to see you Peter." I say, and somehow I cant hold in my excitement that my first adventure will be shared with my best friend. "Arthur, are you packed and ready?" Peter replies. Even though we're the same age he has always sounded older then me. Perhaps more matured from working with his father(who is a soldier here in Bree) "Uhm... Sort of," I say turning my head back to the door leading to my room. "Well, hurry up then," Peter says letting out a short laugh. "I'll set out breakfast," My Mothers voice says from behind me.

So back in my room, for possibly the last time. For some reason, I feel weary, I close the door behind me and sit on the edge of my bed, an empty bag beside me. "So this is it?" I say to myself taking in a deep breath. "You're finally leaving. After all those years as a kid dreaming of going somewhere wonderful, now you're finally going," I start packing things into my bag that I had readied from the day prior. Two large flasks of fresh spring water. Bread tucked away in a leather pouch. And flint. The bag is surprisingly small and I fasten in over my shoulder and it hangs just below my hip. I walk out of my room and back into the main room of our house walking to the table and sitting down in the chair. Courage has made its way back into my heart, and I feel no longer weary. Mother lays out four cups and carefully pours tea into each one, she then lays out plates of breakfast. Peter takes a seat on the right side of the table with my mother on the left, my father sits across from me and we eat together for maybe the last time. "So, you packed now?" Peter asks taking a drink of his tea. "Yes, I'm all ready to go I guess." I reply while gulping down some tea. "Oh before I forget," My Father says while pushing his chair back with a creek to stand up. He then walks towards a large cupboard and opens it with a grin. He pulls out a glistening set of armor pieces set for my size, and lightweight so I can still run.

"Iron, figured you might need it one day." Father says while placing the pieces in front of me. "It's gorgeous!" I reply in pure awe of the iron armor. It doesn't shine or sparkle like armor in stories... but it's my armor, made by my Father. I stand up from the table, being done with my food anyways. I pick up a few pieces of the armor and rest it on the table. "Fantastic work Mr Brodwick." Peter says while examining a piece. "Thank you Peter, I see your armor still fits then," Father replies while pointing at Peters boots. I hadn't even noticed that Peter had been wearing a set of iron armor fashioned by my father back when he started guarding. "Yes, it seems I stopped growing, which I am quite happy about. Wouldn't want to lose this armor," Says Peter lifting his leg up to show some of the plate leggings. I look back at my armor and pick up what looks to be a thigh piece. I fasten it to my left thigh. "How does it look?" I ask quite eager to know. "Well, I suppose you could use a shoulder piece for a thigh guard... Never really thought of it," Father replies scratching the scruff on his chin. We start putting on other pieces of armor including, gauntlets, boots, a bit of chest padding still light enough to run in and flexible. I look in a large mirror in the corner of the room quite impressed with the outcome. "Beautiful, it's just missing one thing," My Mother says while walking to another cabinet and pulling out what appears to be a cape.

She pulls out the dark gray cape and wraps it around my shoulders and neck letting it hang to the right side of my back. The insignia on the back of it, is the symbol of my family. Most of us just call it the Brodwick sign, but real Brodwicks call it DragonsBane. For the symbol is a woven ring surrounding a dragon flying upwards. The insignia is all in a darkened silver, and suddenly I recognize it. "This was my Great Grandfathers wasn't it?" I say excitedly. "Indeed it was, wore it when him and a party 18 went and put an end to the dragon Draugr. Although Draugr was lesser known then any other dragon, he was still a mighty foe, and your Great Grandfather and his party slew the beast, of course your Great Grandfather had the final blow, that's why we still bear the DragonsBane insignia." Father explains. I gaze over it again in the mirror and smile proudly. "Well I suppose me and Arthur should be off. We'll want to cover some ground before nightfall." Peter says standing up out of his chair. Mother begins sobbing again and I hug her once more. "Don't worry Mother, I keep my promises, so I _will _be back," I reassure her once again and start walking off towards the door. Peter picks up a bag I missed by the door and we start walking outside. A light rain is falling, and the clouds above are dark and gray. Peter looks at me laughing "Good day we picked to adventure, hey?" says he sarcastically. We start walking a couple feet away from the house when I hear the door open loudly from behind. Peter and I both turn around to see my Father running out towards us with a long package in hand.

He stops in front of us and hands me the package. "A little something to keep you safe," he says. I unwrap the package and find a sheath and sword. I strap it to my waist, the sword on my left (On account of me being right handed) I draw the sword out with a loud scrapping of metal. The blade is a gorgeous longsword made from steel. A tough cloth material wraps the handle and embroidered into it are familiar images. I smile brightly at this and put the sword back. "The Hobbit," I say. "Yes. I figured you should take your fondest adventure with a tool of adventuring." Father replies putting his hands on my shoulders. Before I can reply he pulls me in for a hug patting my back. "I'll make you proud Father," I say. "Son, you already have!" He says and retracts himself from the hug. A single tear fall down his cheek. "Goodbye son. And good luck." He says walking back towards the house. I turn to Peter who is smiling at me. "What is it?" I ask quite confused at the sudden smirk. "Just look at you, ready for the adventure you always dreamed about. And you even got a sword." Peter replies and with that I smile back. It's kind of like a dream come true really. Off to go on an adventure, best friend at my side. Sword ready to smite foes. Armor worn. Peter and I continue walking down the winding roads turning away from Bree and say our final goodbyes.


	2. A Drunken Stuper

It was turning nightfall and Peter and I had just made it into a low, comfortable, forest near Weather Hills. Peter unstraps the large bag from his back and drops it down on the ground into a patch of fresh grass.

"We had better rest here for tonight. I'd rather not wander into the dark and lose our way, and also supper and rest would do us both good," Peter says with a yawn. I nod in agreement to what he said.

I take the leather bag off of my shoulder and rest it next to a large rock. "I'm going to head for wood. We should really get a fire going as soon as we can." I say while turning my back on Peter and walking off into a patch of trees.

I can hear Peters faint reply behind me as I walk through the pine and oak, snapping branches beneath my feet, the fresh breeze cool to the touch of my skin. My eyes begin to survey the ground in search of anything substantial to burn. I pick up oddly large twigs, peculiarly shaped logs, and a patch of dry grass to start the fire. The load is a hefty weight but manageable. I take the wood tight in my arms and begin making my way back through the trees, towards our small camp. On my way I stumble across something with my eyes, a long slender piece of wood, rather flexible to the touch. I put down what I carry for a moment and examine the piece carefully. My mind begins to ponder. Since watching my father for so long, I've picked up a keen eye for items of usefulness. I begin to think of what this might be crafted into, or be used for, and suddenly the idea darts into my mind like an arrow... An arrow! A bow. Only one thing could be made out of this perfect little piece, a bow! I place the newly found bow body on top of the stack and begin walking out of the forest and back into camp.

Peter immediately picks the bow part off of the top of my pile eying it over. "This wont burn well at all. I thought you've been around fires." He says with a very dull expression on his face.

"That's because It's not for burning-" I snatch the piece from his hand, "It's the body of a bow!"

Peter looks at me, almost amused at the idea. "A bow? Why exactly." He asks, slightly intrigued.

"Well we wont have these supplies forever. And we really don't have gold seeping out of our pockets for provisions. So I'll use it to hunt game when I can," I reply rather proud of my idea. "Here, hand me that sturdy wiring you had packed." I continue.

Peter looks even more befuddled. "How did you know I packed a sturdy wire?" says he quite concerned on my almost physic ability's.

"I saw it hanging out of the right pouch of your pack when we were hiking towards here." I reply once more feeling rather proud and confident.

Peter nods, and hands me the wiring. I cut small holes on either end of the wooden shaft and slide the wire through fastening it tight with a firm knot. I make a small guiding cut on the outside of it(For aiming arrows) and stare at it. A smile strewn across my face.

"There, what do you think?" I say in a high spirited tone.

"Well considering you did all that in less then ten minutes... It's quite impressive." Peter replies while patting me on the back.

I snap out of my self indulged state and back to matters at hand. "Lets see about this fire, It's getting rather dark." I say while rummaging around in the pile I brought back from the woods.

I place the dry grass I found in the center of the stone ring which Peter had made while I was away. On top of that I place the oddly large twigs over it, grab the tinder from my bag, and after a few Snaps and Crackles the twigs are in flames. I cant help but feel over joyed. First the bow, and now lighting our first fire in the wilderness. Peter and I sit around the fire laughing merrily at stories we tell, and taking bites out of small crispy pastries. The small portion of meat we brought from home seems to decrease in amount over our first meal of the week. But even so we have enough Cram to last us a month(If necessary) Peter brings out a long pipe and lights the end of it puffing out smoke circles in the air that seem to float up endlessly into the star ridden night sky. I bring out a bottle of old brandy and pour a bit into two wooden cups we brought along with us. I hand the glass to him and begin a toast.

"To our first night as adventurers!" I say in a loud happy tone.

"And to the gold and stories to bask our names!" Peter adds, and with that we drink, taking down gulp after gulp of the brandy. It has a bitter sweet taste, a taste I've never indulged in before, It's a strong over-whelming aura that leaves your mouth and senses tingling, but no matter what affect, I cant seem to stop myself from enjoying every drop.

After what feels like minutes but is clearly hours Peter and I come to a stumbling halt and fall into a sleep by the warm fire. My nights dreams are filled with bundles of gold, jewel encrusted swords, glistening cloaks of the purest emerald green, and enough red meat and mead to fill my family's house! I wish these dreams could last a life-time but of course they cant, dreams never last long. I awake to find myself lying face first in a small puddle of red brandy-wine. The scent stings my nostrils as I stand up from the ground. I never thought pulling out that bottle would result in forgetting the night previous. My head aches, as does my stomach, the sun blinds my eyes ever more then before. I look over at Peter who is lying on his side by the burnt out fire, wooden cup in hand. I shake his shoulder to wake him and as I do he rises to a sitting position and raises his cup, as if still in whatever sort of dream he was having.

"Huh... Ugh... What happened?" Peter asks burrowing his face in his palms.

"We seem to have... Ugh... gotten a little out-of-control last night." I say holding the side of my throbbing head. I never pictured my first adventurers night going quite like that. Peter leans towards the burnt rubble of the fire and begins lighting a new with whatever we didn't use last night. I sit on the opposite side of the fire staring into it blankly.

"If I never see alcohol again... I'll be perfectly contented" Peter says with a groan.

"On that we agree." I reply staring once more at the fire.

"Should we move out?" Peter asks scratching his head.

I look over towards the Weather Hills and ponder a moment. "It would be wise, but considering our state... I doubt we can. Lets just rest another night," I reply.

On that Peter agrees and we both sit back by the fire and doze off again.

That night is silent, less merrymaking then before by a long shot. We both sit barely speaking and barely moving staring endlessly at the fire. Our conversations for the night don't seem to last more then two or three words, and even if they do they are unintelligent and blatantly annoying. As the night dies down into a cool calm and starry state, Peter and I fall back once again into a sleep, heads still aching from the night previous. When morning breaks through the tall forest trees I find my headache gone, or at least barely noticeable, my stomach pains have also dissipated. Peter arises the same time as I do, and so we both begin to gather our items and head out.

"So, what direction should we be heading now?" Peter asks while hauling his large bags straps over his shoulders.

"How about north?" I reply bluntly.

"North would take us to Fornost, correct?" Peter asks, almost worried.

"Exactly why we should go, there's ought to be plunders of gold!" I reply nearly jumping for joy.

"I suppose going to Fornost wouldn't be too bad. But not for long, overstaying our welcome wouldn't be smart." Peter says while beginning to walk.

We walk through fields, mud, rain or shine. Until we reach the top of a small hill overlooking the rocky ruins of Fornost. It's actually quite beautiful honestly, besides the ruble around it, Fornost must have looked lovely in its prime. Although there's something off-putting about it, something neither me nor Peter can explain. But never the less we continue towards it nearing ever closer into midday, and towards its gate.


End file.
